Call if you are going to be late!
by colakirk
Summary: Peter and Neal are held up and Elizabeth is not at all happy. WARNING: Contains adult spanking. DON'T LIKE PLEASE DON'T READ.


**WARNING**: This fanfic includes **adult spanking**. If it's not your thing, please hit backspace now. It also mentions a shooting and suicide but only in passing.

CALL IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!

"Will you stop sulking." Peter pulled the Taurus up at the red light and glared over at Neal. "I'll take you to the exhibit sometime next week. It's been a big couple of days and I just feel like putting my feet up tonight. Besides, I told El I'd be home early for dinner."

"Won't be on next week," Neal sounded all of fifteen. _Dam stupid tracker and Peter and his stupid rules_, he thought as he stared out the window.

"Well I'm sorry Neal, but I need a little more notice than the couple of hours you gave me. You need to learn to organize yourself better."

"It's an art exhibit Peter, I'm not throwing a 50th birthday party!"

"Next time, Neal. OK. Let's leave it at that." They were almost at June's and Peter did not want to drop Neal off in the middle of a yelling match. Neal had all but ruined Peter's good mood.

"Fine, Peter."

At the next set of lights, something caught Neal's eye. Sitting up taller and leaning his head towards the window, Neal strained to see a man dressed in a hoodie coming out of a vacant store across on the opposite footpath.

"Peter, stop!"

"What? What Neal? What's …," but Neal had already sprung out of the Taurus and was sprinting across three lanes of traffic, narrowly dodging the taxis.

"Dammit Neal!" Peter pulled the car over to the curb and made a reasonable attempt at parking out of the line of fire of the vehicles streaming through behind him. He jumped out and headed in Neal's direction. 'I'm going to kill him,' he growled to himself.

Neal could no longer see the guy in the hoodie so he thought he'd check out the vacant shop he'd spotted him leaving just minutes earlier. It took Neal all of five seconds to pick the lock and was inside before Peter had even parked the car. He knew he needed to get in before Peter arrived – there was that annoying thing about warrants and probable cause that Peter would go on about – s_tupid rules_, he mumbled in his head. It was so incredibly annoying. Peter would never understand his frustration.

He made his way towards the back of the small shop, opened the door to the supply storeroom and flicked the light switch. The door was self-closing so Neal quickly dragged a box onto the edge of door to hold it open.

Peter stormed through the front door calling out in a yelling whisper, "Neal? Neal?" He caught sight of Neal in the storeroom and marched towards him.

"Dammit Neal. What the hell…" Peter's foot caught the edge of the box Neal had placed at the entrance and knocked it from its holding position. The door slammed shut.

"No Peter!" Neal shouted, diving for the door without any success.

Neal straightened up, tidied his jacket and turned to face Peter. "Peter, that door locks from the outside," he spoke very calmly like you would to a child. "As you can see, there's no lock, hole, mechanism, whatever, anything on this side. Nothing but a handle. Something you grab and pull, not something you put a key into and turn!" Neal's voice had begun to rise as he spoke.

Peter's head was spinning. Three minutes ago he was almost a free man. Only blocks away from dropping Neal off and heading home to his beautiful wife. Now, instead, he was standing in a storeroom at the back some vacant shop for who knows what reason, staring at the back of a locked door.

He turned to Neal, daggers practically shooting from his eyes. "Neal, why the hell are we in here?"

"Peter, you saw him didn't you? That suspect from the Lambert Heist last week. You know the footage where you couldn't see the guys face. He was wearing a hoodie. Well I recognized the design. They're unique you know. Anyway, I'm sure it was the same guy and look Peter, these crates over here, they're new, the other boxes have dust all over them, these haven't been here long at all!" Neal was growing excited like the case was done, dusted and wrapped up with a pretty bow to send to the department.

"Neal..." Peter sighed.

"Look Peter," Neal continued as he lifted the lid off one of the suspect boxes. "It is the art work from the heist." Someone had done a very sloppy job of storing the paintings within the crate. Neal was disgusted. _Sloppy amateurs_, he thought to himself.

Peter, still in a semi state of shock, began to draw on his FBI stores and moved into agent mode. "OK Neal. It does look like these may be the pieces from the Lambert Heist but we're not supposed to be here. I'll have Jones get a warrant and place surveillance on the shop and there shouldn't be any problem with your hoodie friend taking off with the paintings before we get the ball rolling. So if you just pick the door, we can leave before we are seen here without probable cause and can organize this through the correct legal channels. Something you should have considered in the first place!" He completed the last statement by pointing a finger directly at Neal's face.

"Pick what Peter?" Neal looked at Peter with that, _can you possibly be as thick as what I'm thinking you are_ look. "There's nothing to pick. The door is as solid as they come, this room has no windows, no manholes in the ceiling and unless it's got a secret hatch in the floor somewhere, we're not getting out without someone letting us out." Neal stood tall in front of Peter with a slight smugness to his voice and said, "Cowboy up, Peter, you're going to have to ring Jones and tell him you're stuck in a cupboard and can he please come and let your sorry arse out."

It took all of Peter's inner strength not to reach out and strangle the smug look off Neal's face. "The phone is in the car, Neal." Peter growled out each word. "I jumped out of the car in such a hurry and with my concerns about keeping my eye on which direction you were headed and trying not to get sideswiped by a NY cab, I guess I left it in the console." Peter took a step closer to Neal, if that were possible, and continued, "And I know you don't have your phone because I confiscated it at this afternoon's briefing when you wouldn't stop sending text messages to Mozzie about the exhibit you begged me to take you to!" Peter was shouting. "Now unless you picked my briefcase and took it back, which I really don't think you did because you're not suicidal," Neal flinched, "then your stupid phone is still sitting in my briefcase on the back seat of the car!"

"Crap," was all Neal could get out of his mouth while taking a subtle step backwards putting a little distance between himself and Peter.

"Yeah Buddy, so I hope you can come up with something better than 'cowboy up' or we're both in the shit."

"I guess they'll find us eventually. After all, I have an inbuilt GPS," Neal spoke hesitantly pointing to his ankle. He winched when he looked up at Peter's angry eyes and vowed not to do any more talking unless their life depended on it. He sat down on the box that had been used to prop open the door and looked everywhere that Peter was not.

After what seemed like an eternity of Peter shooting daggers at Neal and Neal examining every crack on the floor with his eyes, they heard sounds coming from outside the door. Peter went all business like, grabbing his gun and taking position up against the wall. Neil on the other had been willing to jump into the hands of anybody that would be kind enough to rescue him from Peter Hell, whether they had good intentions or not. "Neal," Peter called out in a firm whisper. "Stand back."

Neal complied. For once.

Thankfully though, it was friend not foe and relief washed over both of them as they saw Dianna's beautiful face gracing the doorway to the storeroom.

"If you two needed privacy, there are easier ways to go about it," Dianna commented while stepping aside to allow space for Neal and Peter to exit the room. Neither found the joke funny.

"What are you doing here, Boss?"

"Long story short, Neal spotted our suspect from the Lambert Heist, followed him in here, found the stolen art work and in the process got us trapped in the storeroom without a phone and any means of escape. We don't have a warrant, Dianna, so would you be so kind as to contact Jones and have him arrange one along with surveillance of the shop."

"Sure Peter."

"And Dianna?"

"Yeah Boss?"

"Thank you for coming when you did. You very likely prevented another crime from taking place." Peter glanced over at Neal who was creeping closer to the door getting ready to make his break.

"Anytime Boss," Dianna chuckled feeling not in the slightest bit sorry for Neal and the stern lecture he was about to get from Peter.

Peter marched over, grabbed the back of Neal's collar and continued to drag him towards the door. "I'll see you in the morning, Dianna. Thanks again."

"I can walk from here thanks Peter. I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter ignored Neal's subtle hint to release him for the night. It was far from over. "So help me Neal if I have so much as a parking ticket, it's going to be a very uncomfortable ride home for you," Peter growled into Neal's ear.

Neal released the breath he'd been holding when they reached the Taurus to find it unharmed and no ticket. Relief washed over Neal when Peter finally let go of his collar. Neal scrambled into the passenger seat. "How did Dianna know to look my tracking data up in the first place?"

"Don't know, don't care. I'll ask her tomorrow." Peter's only concern right now was getting home, and getting home fast.

"Peter? June's house is back the other way."

"You're coming home with me."

"Why?" Neal drawled it out, trying to think of a reason as he was asking.

"I don't know. It's late. It's been a crazy night for all of us. Thought I should make sure you're taken care of with dinner and all. It's getting on and you'd probably skip dinner if I took you straight home."

"Peter! You want to use me as a buffer! Elizabeth is going to be mad and you're hoping that if I'm there then she'll take it easy on you!"

Peter looked at Neal considering thinking of some other plausible possibility but came up empty handed. "Yeah Partner, that's right. You're going to be standing between us while El's going off at me as to why I'm three hours late without so much as a phone call!"

"No way man!"

"Yes way. Your fault. You're going to take responsibility. You're going…."

"…to be your fall guy." Neal couldn't believe it. But on the upside, a night at the Burke's was always something to look forward to. A delicious home cooked meal, followed by a movie maybe and a snuggle on the floor with Satchmo…..he could handle a bit of yelling from Elizabeth, hell, he heard it from Peter all day long!

Despite the promise of a home cooked meal on the other side of the door, both men stood silently on the porch for a few moments contemplating their fate on the other side. Peter reassured himself that it was a good move bringing Neal home so he confidently pushed his younger friend through first.

Neal stumbled into the living room and his first sight was Elizabeth standing next to the dining table, arms folded, eyes of steel, glaring at the commotion coming through the door. "Good evening, Elizabeth," Neal managed to bring some normality to the greeting.

"Evening Neal."

"Hi Honey, I'm home." Peter tried for light-hearted. It landed flat.

"Hello Peter."

"Look El, I'm sorry I'm late but Neal jumped out of the car and chased a man and ran into a storeroom and …"

"….Peter tripped over the box and locked us in and….."

"….Neal couldn't get us out even though he's never met a lock he can't pick and…."

"….Peter was silly enough to leave his phone in the car….."

"…..and Neal…"

"Enough!" El's word cut through their feeble attempts to deflect the blame onto each other. "Sounds interesting," although the tone of her voice said otherwise, "but let me tell you both about my day!" Neal and Peter turned to face El giving her their undivided attention. "I had an exceptional day at work. A little rare – you know the type of day where you feel you're good at what you do and are fairly pleased with yourself?"

Peter nodded. He pulled his collar away from his neck to let in a little air.

"The planning for the Baker Wedding next week was finalized without any fuss. Unusual for something like that to run so smoothly but sometimes it happens. All my paper work was up to date so I took an early mark."

Neal tried to stay focused but the delectable smells waffling in from the kitchen made it difficult to see where this was all going.

"When I got home I thought I'd make something special for dinner. You know how it is when you're onto something that doesn't happen very often so you want to make the most of it?"

"Yes El. I …."

"So I finished up preparing dinner. Cleaned up the kitchen. Checked the clock. Said to myself, 'Hmmm.. Peter will be home shortly, why not treat yourself El to a glass of bubbly. Put your feet up El.' So I switched on the telly and sat back to sip my California Chandon.

Neal was sure hoping this story was going to end soon. If this is what Peter had to go through each time he was late, he would try his darnest to never let him suffer this fate again.

"After a while I began to get a little concerned that you weren't home yet so I tried your mobile. ….. It rang out."

Peter turned and glared at Neal.

"Now that's unusual, because if Peter's unable to take a call, the phone always goes to voice mail." El began to have the conversation with herself like the guys were no longer present. "Maybe he just didn't hear it…..

"Yeah El, that's…"

El didn't hear Peter, "….so I thought I'd try again in 15 minutes, 30 minutes but you know how it is with that uneasy feeling that rapidly grows in your stomach with a life of its own. I sat on the couch to reassess my next move when my attention suddenly shifted to the breaking story on the telly about a random shooting at Federal Plaza!"

El now had both Peter and even Neal's undivided attention. Being stuck where they were they'd had no knowledge of this development. "So before the nausea forced me to run to the bathroom, I dialed Dianna and babbled out my concerns…"

Neal looked to Peter, nodding with satisfaction, the missing piece of the puzzle!

"…..and she eased some of my anxieties by saying she'd look up Neal's tracking data immediately and that the shooter at Federal Plaza had been arrested without any casualties. Forty-five minutes later, I got a call from Dianna to tell me she'd found you both safe and sound and you were on your way home."

"I'd been looking forward to spending a romantic spring evening with my husband, after all as he headed out this morning the last thing he said was, 'I'll be home on time tonight El,'and I replied?" El glared at Peter…..

"Wonderful hon, I'll cook up something special. Call if you're going to be late." Peter recalled and spoke El's words that he'd heard on the way out the door this morning. He felt his guilt bubble up inside at the speed of which he expected El's anxiety had when she'd seen the shooting story on the news.

"El, I'm …."

El cut him off and held out her hand, "Belt."

"Elllll….." Peter whined.

"One." El continued to hold her hand out towards Peter.

"But it was Neal's f..." Flinging his hand out towards his partner like he was reaching for a lifeline.

"Two." This time El tried a visual prompt and held up two fingers.

"OK, El. OK." Peter's hands quickly reached for his buckle and slid the belt out through the loops. He reluctantly handed it over to El before stepping over to the table, bending forward and placing his palms flat on the surface.

Neal remained frozen on his spot in the middle of the lounge room floor. His head began to swim like he was entering some type of drug induced dream. He came crashing back to the reality of the situation by the loud whack that reverberated throughout the room. One. Neal had to say something but his jaw wouldn't move. Two. He tried to lift his arm to get someone's attention but his limbs remained fixed by his side. Three. Neal winced. That one was particularly powerful. Four. Neal looked at Peter's face and then quickly looked away. Five. Ouch. He could feel Peter's pain. Six. Peter was being punished for something that was essentially Neal's fault. Seven. No. Peter was equally to blame for this fiasco. Eight. Neal stood back and began to relax a little. Nine. Possibly even enjoying it slightly that Peter was on the receiving end of getting his arse beat instead of him for a change. Ten.

El placed Peter's belt on the table but her hand remained firmly resting on Peter's back. "Lesson, Peter?"

"To always call you, honey, when I'm going to be late, no mater what the circumstances. In other words. I'll be sure to keep my phone tucked into my pocket at all times." Peter spoke quickly while trying to get his breathing back to its regular rhythm.

"Good." El released her hand from Peter's back.

Peter stood up, slipped his belt back through the loops and turned to El placing gentle arms on her shoulders. "I'm so sorry El. I won't ever worry you like that again."

El reached up and gave him a long soft kiss on his lips. "I know sweetie. I love you."

Neal was relieved it was all ending well. Maybe he could finally eat. However, his joy turned to fear as Elizabeth directed a glare towards him with a look in her eyes that didn't bode well for his butt.

"Boy that dinner smells awesome, Elizabeth," Neal plastered his 1000watt smile all over his face. "Can I give you a hand?"

Elizabeth took a step towards the young con. "No thank you Neal, I had plenty of time to get it ready earlier." Neal dropped his smile. Elizabeth held out her hand. "Belt."

Neal spun towards Peter who was slowly putting some distance between himself and the table. "Peeeeetter…." Neal whined hoping for some help. Peter just looked at the floor. His involvement in this was over.

"One."

_Come on Neil, you're a conman. Con your way out of this_. "But if Peter….." Neal called out desperately while swinging his hand wildly in Peter's direction.

"Two."

Neal opened his mouth to have a last ditch attempt at saving his butt._ No Neal. Just do it_. Peter was begging in his head.

"Th…."

"FINE. OK. Hold on." Neal fumbled with his belt buckle but managed to slip it out through the loops and pass it to Elizabeth before it dropped out of his suddenly slippery palms.

Neal dragged his palms across his trouser legs before placing them flat on the table. He scrunched his eyes shut and held his breath as he awaited the first strike. Whack_. Crap. That hurt like hell._ Elizabeth pulled the belt back belt and landed another on top of the first. Whack. _How the hell did Peter get through this without screaming out at the top of his lungs?_ Whack. Neal tried desperately to shift out of the firing line without success. Whack. Whack. Whack. _Where did Elizabeth learn her technique_? Whack_. How did Peter get him into this mess?_ Whack. He wasn't going to give Peter the satisfaction of being the only one who could withstand an Elizabeth punishment. Whack. He bit his lip and held on tight. Whack.

Elizabeth put the belt down on the table and asked, "Lesson Neal?"

Neal drew in a long breath before answering, "To always call you, honey, when I'm going to be late, no mater what the circumstances."

Peter standing in the middle of the living room wanting desperately for this to be over just rolled his eyes.

Neal began to stand but Elizabeth's hand remained firmly against his back. She picked the belt back up and swung it against Neal's already tender backside. "Yeowwww!" No longer able to hold onto his composure. Elizabeth continued her assault. "I'm sorr...Owww!" With each new strike, Neal found some other curse leaving his mouth which he had no control over. "Frig!" And all the while he was screaming at himself on the inside. _Dammit Neal, you couldn't have kept that smart mouth of yours shut for once._

Eventually, Elizabeth returned the belt to the table and once again asked, "Lesson, Neal?"

Neal quickly composed himself before speaking in a very level and contrite tone, "Follow Peter's directions. Listen to what he tells me. His rules keep me safe." He'd been forced to recite this to Peter on a number of occasions in the past but never under these conditions. It was something he could say in his sleep, should have said it the first time around.

Elizabeth removed her hand and pulled Neal up. "I hope you remember that next time, Sweetie, I love you too much for anything to happen to you" she said as she gave him a loving kiss on his cheek.

"I love you too, El, and I'm really sorry I put you through all of that." Neal rested his head on Elizabeth shoulders allowing himself a quick cuddle before pulling away and rubbing some of the sting out of his sore backside.

Elizabeth headed over to the kitchen while calling out over her shoulder, "Dinner will be on the table in five. You boys go ahead and wash up."

Neal looked at Peter in the mirror while he was washing his hands. Peter no longer looked upset with him, in fact he looked like he was just taking a bathroom break from watching a game on the telly. Neal stepped aside so Peter could get to the sink.

"Peter, what happens if Elizabeth gets to three?" Neal passed Peter the hand towel.

Peter looked up, hesitant, but answered anyway, it was that kind of night… "We'll…. if El gets to three, you get it on the bare."

Neal's eyes just about popped out of his head and his mouth had trouble forming his next words. "Yeah, but you wouldn't let that happen….right."

"No. Of course not buddy. I'd never let El….." he chuckled, albeit a little nervously.

Neal joined in the levity of the moment. "Never going to happen eh!"

"Nup, Nudda, No way."

Their moment of bravado came crashing down seconds later as they heard Elizabeth calling up from downstairs. "Dinner's on the table. You boys have thirty seconds to be seated or we'll be doing round two."

Elizabeth heard two very clear, 'coming El' followed by especially quick footsteps heading down the stairs. She took a sip of her bubbly, finally able to relish in the moment that all was right in the universe again, her two boys home safe, a nice home cooked meal on the table, a special evening after all. She took another sip, _Boy that really did taste good!_


End file.
